


Unholy Wine

by GalileaGalilei (orphan_account)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Drinking, Gen, Regis' youth, Vampires, a bit of violence, a bit of violence against an infant, and some of his asshole friends, his wild years, nothing too graphic though, the Humanist makes an appearance for one scene, this is really angsty, you know just vamps doing vamp things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GalileaGalilei
Summary: The full moon stood high when they came into the village.





	Unholy Wine

The full moon bathed the village in an eerie, almost surreal light. A light that should exist only in the tales old grandmothers told their grandchildren at the warm hearth in the winter. _The full moon stood high when they came into the village..._ _Village_. It made the array of houses sound bigger than it was. There were five buildings, two of which were sheds for animals and farming tools. But anything more than that, and they would run the risk of someone escaping. They did not wish for survivors. Survivors could always flee to tell others of their kind of the flock of vampires that could not live too far away from them. And who would want vermin at their door, especially if the vermin was capable of carrying torches to burn down crypts and houses?

Not a soul heard them coming. One little girl who looked out the window before going to the well in the centre of the settlement could have sworn that the fog outside took on fantastical colours and shapes for only a second, but she did not dare tell anyone about it. Her father would only call her a dreamer and scold her for making up stories. So she told noone.

The screams started a mere minute later, the little girl being the first one to die.

 

—

 

She screamed as she was being lifted into the air. A pair of hands – the sharp nails digging into her flesh through her torn clothing – under her arms, she went up, higher and higher, her feet losing ground. At first, she wanted nothing more than to be let down again, but the smaller the houses below her seemed, the more her wish turned into not wanting to be let go. And still, she toyed with the idea of simply trying to get free. Would it hurt if she fell…? Would it be a quick death? Quicker, at least, than the one this creature carrying her would grant her?

All around her, she could hear the restless flapping of wings. As though the creature had guessed her thoughts, cold lips came close to her ear. His breath carried the faint metallic smell of blood. “Do not worry yourself, beautiful. This is not high enough for you to suffer any harm.”

“ _Bastard_!” she screamed, remembering what he had done to her little sister down by the well. It had been him, she was sure of it. The same voice, the same quiet chuckle. Had it not been for her dead sister, she would have cried tears of terror, but her anger helped her stay sane. She did not want to die in fear. She wanted to die with dignity. “Let me go!”

She expected a laugh. Mockery. Instead, the man turned her around in his arms so fast that the air was pressed out of her lungs, making her face him for the first time. His face was a surprise. It was – to put it simple – _human_. A young man, one, maybe two years older than herself. Dark eyes. Pale brown hair reaching down to his shoulders swaying softly in the breeze his flight conducted. A handsome – albeit a bit boring – face. Way back – and it seemed like ages ago – she would have laughed had someone like him made advances towards her. She did not feel like laughing now. The monstrous wings at his back that must have torn through his now surely ruined clothes reminded her that this was not a human being. And never had been.

“Why?” she asked him, now that she could look him in the eyes, and she held back the tears she wanted to cry. “Why are you doing this? Why did my sister have to die?” Her voice did not break. She would be brave.

“Why?” he echoed her question before flashing a smile at her that nearly made her bravery shatter. There was nothing human about him now. “Because I can, my dear.” Then he let go.

She could only do so much as close her eyes and brace herself for the impact, but she did not reach the ground. Another pair of arms caught her, held her securely in their grasp. “Be a bit more careful with them, Emiel!” she heard an unfamiliar voice shout. “I know they wiggle just like worms if they want to escape, but you mustn’t let them fall. They shatter like seashells when they hit stone. And I, for one, do not want to lick their blood off the ground! _You_ , yes, you would do that, I know. But even you’re too sober for such a degrading, vile-”

“What?,” the man named Emiel laughed. “Leave my feeding habits out of this! She asked me to drop her. I figured I would be nice and help her out. Especially since I have apparently caused a bit of trouble in her family tonight.”

“Ah. Does your letting her fall mean I can have her?”

“Help yourself.” His voice was carried away by the wind. She could barely understand him. Or maybe it was not the wind at all, but the fact that his speech was getting more and more slurred. “I have seen something that has sparked my interest more than she ever could.”

The woman looked up at the man now holding her. An unfamiliar face. Barely a face at all. A monster. A beast. She did not have time to scream. And she did not reach the ground. Only her body would.

 

—

 

Emiel loved the feeling of diving down until all he could feel was the wind tearing at his body, his hair, his wings. It all went so fast, yet it was more peaceful than anything he knew. Falling, only without the fear of being hurt. He was in control. How mortals endured a life without this endless freedom to fly up high to the clouds he did not know.

The blood he had swallowed was beginning to let an ecstatic dizziness get a hold of him. He anticipated the moment when he would be nothing more than his own instincts with which nature had blessed him. A heightening of the senses that humans could never experience. A warmth in his body driving out the coldness of the tombs they called their homes that had infested his limbs.

The girl’s blood still stained his lips. He licked them to savour as much of it as he could. Blood as sweet as this should never go to waste – not a single drop. And yet he wanted _more_. It was not enough, he decided as he felt his mouth and throat go dry and his head spin with desire, and so he dove further down to the destination he had caught sight of before. A woman running… with a bundle in her arms.

 

—

 

Her dress held her back, so she bent down without ceasing to run to rip it at the side with her free hand. The other one was clutching her son to her chest. The infant was crying. He had only come into this world two months ago. A dangerous world it was for a child, but their village had always seemed like a safe place to her, far away from wars and monsters.

She had been, oh, so wrong. She passed her brother as she ran. He must have also tried to escape this hell on his own, not looking back even once to see how his family was faring. She did not blame him. For her, though, there was nothing left here to turn back around to. Behind her, only chaos reigned. A bloody chaos driven forward by monstrous creatures flying, laughing at their agony as though they were truly amused by their futile attempts to save their lives.

Her brother had not made it. He lay there on the ground. She did not stop to look at his body, but out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was pale and bloodless, long cold. Later, yes, later she would mourn him, but for now there was only one thing her world revolved around. One thing she wanted, _needed_ to save. Her son. Her only son.

The mother did only notice that someone was behind her when she was already engulfed in thick grey smoke. Or… something that appeared to be smoke, at the very least. It seemed to follow her movements, mimicked them, was almost caressing her, even her face, her lips, her cheek. Then, within the blink of an eye, the smoke touching her face turned into a hand. She cried out and stumbled back, pulling her child to her.

The vampire came closer, thus leaving her no choice but to take step after step backwards, into the direction of the village in which the screaming had not yet completely died down. Unfamiliar heat warmed her back. The smell of burning wood lay in the air. _They are burning everything to the ground_ , she thought absentmindedly. The monster was not seemingly in any hurry. An almost relaxed smile graced his features as he followed her. He would have looked truly friendly, _harmless_ even, had it not been for the eyes. Those eyes were changing as he approached her; they went from a soothing black to an unsettling red. And they were glistening with something very close to madness. Frenzy. Lust.

She was stopped by a treacherous root that she tripped over with her heel. She lost balance, was able to clutch her child, and the vampire grabbed her by the arms holding her upright. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he advised her. “And stop running away.” His voice was close to breaking. It was hoarse, a breathless sigh. Horrified, she watched as his face underwent a transformation that she had never thought possible in any being.

Behind her, she could hear the steps of creatures no longer needing to hide themselves. It could only mean one thing. She and her son were the only human beings left alive in the village. Having no other options, she began to reason with the vampire in front of her. “Stop!” she called out to him, and caught him mid-transformation. The monstrous features slowly vanished leaving only the more human-like face although the hungry look in his eyes had not disappeared. “He is still so young. I beg you to leave him alive.” She was sobbing openly now. “Surely your kind has children as well. You would never harm them, would you?”

“How old is he?” the vampire asked pointing to the infant with his chin. His tone made it clear that his patience was wearing thin. Still, she had to _try_ …

“He was born two moon cycles ago. He-“

The vampire smiled. “Yes. So young I can’t even imagine his age. And I am not old for our kind, you must know that.” He took a step forward. She mirrored it. He motioned to someone behind them. A strange gesture with his hand. At its meaning, she could only guess, but she did not dare to cast a look behind her.

“Give me the child, and you may live,” the vampire suggested. “You are of no interest to me. You may live. I only want _this_.” He extended one finger towards the child, and with horror she had to realise that the lust in his eyes grew more intense, almost palpable, as he looked at her son.

The woman screamed, and the noise hurt Emiel’s sensitive ears. The pain enraged him, made his blood boil. A high-pitched hiss escaped him as he took several steps towards her. She was still clutching the crying infant to her chest, now closer than ever. She did not resist. Not outwardly. But although she had stopped her retreat, she had not yet given up. A mother’s courage was far stronger than he had imagined. Never before had he seen such anger in a human’s eyes. Helpless anger, almost desperation, but nonetheless seething hate directed at his very person. It did not impress him all that much.

 “You _monster_!” she spit the word into his face. “You will _never_ get him!”

“Wrong. I will get the child, but I will also take your life if you do not cooperate. See, I am far from sated, and a new-born child does not exactly cure my thirst. It’s so very, _very_ small.”

“Please, don’t!” He could smell the salt in the tears that streamed down her face. He could smell… _everything_ as her heart sped up and pumped adrenaline through her veins, directly into her blood sweetening its taste even more. His fangs extended making it difficult to talk, but not impossible.

“You have no way of stopping me,” he explained as calmly as he could. He… _wanted_ … But not her. No, the treasure she was guarding was more after his taste.

“ _Is there no mercy in you_?”

Emiel smirked. “Not for creatures lesser than the worms beneath my feet. They also die if I step on them, just like you. Just like him, your child, although they do not _whine_ quite as much. But I have a fate much more fitting for a weak little thing such as him in mind. And now, if you would…”

The mother did not see the fog condense behind her, did not feel the slightest breeze of air until it was too late and the vampire – Emiel’s companion – grabbed her around the waist. She cried out in shock, for a second loosened the hold she had on her child, and Emiel took his chance, leant forward, and took the infant. The mortal was trying to free herself, thrashed, scratched. Her nails did not even pierce the skin of Emiel’s companion. Not much was left in her of the race that called itself _civilised_. Apparently, some basic instincts were still intact in these rational beings. _Intelligent_ races. A jest, really. “Get away from him!” she screamed. “Get away from him! Don’t harm him! Let him go! _Let him go_ , please, I _beg_ you!” Her words ended with a gurgling sound that left her throat. Emiel’s companion had apparently heard enough of her cries; he had sunk his teeth into her neck, breaking it with one hand killing her instantly.

It was no pretty scene. Emiel smiled gently, turning away from it, his thumb caressing the cheek of the child. _Is there no mercy in you?_ He put the little boy under his spell. The crying ceased immediately as did the fearfully fast heartbeat. The child grew calm in his arms, and, absentmindedly, he started rocking it. “It is a sweet little thing, isn’t it?” he addressed his companion.

The other vampire only shrugged, did not even spare more than a glance for Emiel and the child before bending back down over the mother’s body that he had lowered to the ground.

“Sweet little thing indeed,” he repeated, and bent his neck as well, allowing the sweetest blood, velvety in its taste, to pour down his throat, drowning all the memories of fearful humans and twisted bodies, leaving only the all-consuming bliss of Emiel Regis forgetting once more how to think, how to feel, how to rue.

 

—

 

The Humanist hesitated. Regis was almost certain he would never speak a word to him again. Only to send him away, perhaps, far away as he did not wish contact to monsters such as him.

“You took the life of… a child?” he asked after what felt like an eternity.

“More than one.” The confession slipped from his lips like venom dripping down his chin and to the floor of the crypt. In the dark that was only broken by one stray candle somewhere on a table in a corner, he could not look at the man in front of him. Instead, he focused on that one light his eyes did not need, but his heart desired. “Do you think me a monster now?” he asked fearing the answer.

“A stupid little boy, still green behind his bat ears,” was the reply. “But that boy has paid the price. That boy has died during one of your rampages. And every single death you have caused will help you expand on that endless mercy you have within you.”

“There is no mercy in me.”

“There is. My eyes are not playing tricks on me when I look at those traces on your face.” A thumb touched his cheek in a fatherly comforting gesture, wiping the tears away. “Come back tomorrow. There is still a lot to talk about.”


End file.
